


Winbaronia

by SDLynn



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Polygamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5230349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDLynn/pseuds/SDLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story Request: Gundam Wing, lemon fetish with Quatre appearing in a speedo.</p><p>Quatre, Trowa, and Dorothy.</p><p>Quatre's faith is prominent. The polyamorous relationship between the three characters is prevalent. References to characters and events from the Episode Zero manga.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trowa Returns

Quatre Winner tried, to the best of his abilities, to keep up with his swimming regimen. He swam in the wee hours of the morning and on his hour break throughout the week, except on Wednesdays and Sundays. Wednesdays and Sundays were typically devoted to meetings or traveling between colonies, Mars, and the Earth. Quatre had arrived back in the L4 Colony Cluster, on Amelia Colony, Hatte Side on Wednesday. Armonia Manor had come to Quatre’s family through his mother’s inheritance. Quaterina Winner, nee Armonia, had been the fourth daughter of her parents but there were no living relatives on her side of the family. This had been her childhood home and he’d spent some time here. The Manor was as close to “coming home” as the nomadic young man could claim.

It was four in the morning on Saturday and Quatre entered the room with his impossibly pale blue eyes hidden behind tinted swimming goggles. He wore only a triangle of brief, white men’s swimwear. He dove into the large pool in complete privacy and his slim body barely created a ripple in the water. A white swimming cap covered most of his hair and the streaks of platinum gold that escaped the cap appeared darker when wet. Brilliant cobalt blue tiles were decorated with gold leaf and edged by gold glass. The tall, old-fashioned style lamps lined the giant room and cast light on the crystal clear water. The enormous room was modeled after the destroyed Hearst Castle’s Roman pool. The domed roof above him displayed the intricate and accurate detail of the constellations outside the space colony. Statues of roman goddesses surrounded the pool. The voluptuous figures sculpted of priceless white marble had been commissioned during the rule of the Zanscare Empire. 

Quatre finished his laps and walked up the pool stairs and out of the water. The showers were decorated in a similar way but they were more functional in appearance. Quatre adjusted the handle of the polished brass fixture until the water was warm. He faced away from the water, tipping his head back to rinse out his blonde hair. He enjoyed the water washing away the harsh smell of chlorine for a moment before a figure appeared on the other side of the frosted glass shower door. The tight cords of muscle throughout the line of his frame all relaxed, ever so slightly when he realized the tall, slender figure was Trowa Barton. 

“May I join you?” Trowa asked, in his solemn way.

“You may,” Quatre smiled as he pushed open the shower door. Trowa’s intense green eyes took in Quatre. The nylon and spandex material that stretched tight over the curve of his sex left little to the imagination. Trowa was wearing only his jogging shorts. Trowa didn’t spend more than a moment just standing. He slipped out of the jogging shorts and into the shower with Quatre. Trowa was tall, slender, and as tightly muscled as was possible. Quatre reacted visibly to Trowa’s lean physique. The circus had kept Trowa in as good or better shape as the mercenary lifestyle he’d lived for years. 

“It was a long mission,” Trowa let his fingers trail over Quatre’s arms. He’d been called to do some undercover work for the Preventers and he’d been out of touch for weeks.

“I missed you,” Quatre told him honestly, hands stroking his face.

“The water’s cold,” Trowa objected. It wasn’t cold, Quatre knew, but he knew Trowa had been forced to use cold water or even snow to bathe with as a child. Trowa preferred the temperature close to scalding. Quatre turned up the temperature of the water to something that more closely resembled instant steam and moved with Trowa so that the water hit Trowa directly. Quatre knew if he spent time beneath such hot water that he would leave the shower with a rash, or worse.

“Thank you,” Trowa murmured, tipping Quatre’s face up as he leaned down to the shorter man. Quatre, still marveling at the miraculous gift, let one hand travel down his side as they kissed. They took turns, using the bar of soap less for function and more as an excuse to touch each other thoroughly.

“You don’t take showers,” Quatre teased lightly, as the shower filled up with steam, “You take saunas.”

“What’s a sauna?” Trowa asked, hooking thumbs into Quatre’s swimwear. 

“It’s a steam room. Supposedly, the heat and the steam helps your body to sweat out toxins,” Quatre told him, moving his body to help Trowa divest him of his only scrap of clothing. 

“Hm,” Trowa made a noncommittal noise, pulling Quatre close to lay another soft kiss on his mouth. Quatre pushed back Trowa’s wet hair. Trowa pulled back, filled his hand with liquid soap and began massaging it into Quatre’s hair. 

Quatre let his head fall forward, enjoying the massage of Trowa’s fingers through his hair and over his scalp. He let his hand drift forward, brushed the soft back of his fingers over the length of Trowa’s semi-erection. Trowa tilted Quatre’s head up, distracting him.

“You should rinse the soap out,” Trowa told him in a voice gone deeper than his usual timbre. They both turned sideways, as one unit, until some of the hot water streamed through Quatre’s blonde locks. Trowa, seeing how Quatre’s eyes darkened and he winced, turned the heat down for a bit. The taller man rubbed cream rinse on his hands, then ran his hands through Quatre’s hair again. 

“This may be my favorite part of you coming to visit,” Quatre sounded almost drugged by pleasure.

“Oh?” Trowa pulled his hands from Quatre’s hair and slid one over his ass. The other he used to gently cup and stroke between Quatre’s legs. 

“Oh,” Quatre held onto Trowa’s shoulders, “Don’t stop.”

Trowa used his hands and body to angle Quatre away from him, turning the small blonde so that he faced the wall of the shower. Trowa pulled Quatre’s back, pressed his lover’s smooth back tightly against the rising swell of his body. Trowa reached for the bar of soap and slid his slick hands down the front of Quatre’s body. Quatre leaned forward, braced his hands on the cold tiles, and pressed his ass into Trowa. Trowa leaned forward slightly, one hand wrapping around Quatre’s hardened arousal and the other softly cupping and releasing the soft rolls of skin beneath. Trowa moved rhythmically, teasing himself with the press of his own firm sex between Quatre’s ass cheeks. 

“I think,” Trowa’s voice was low in Quatre’s ear, “You enjoy this, too.”

“Yes,” Quatre gasped it, arching under the rapid, relentless strokes. Arching pressed him more tightly into Trowa, who leaned his mouth down to nip at the bend where shoulder met throat. 

“Ah,” Quatre gasped in his own release and cried out on the exhale.

“I almost forgot,” Trowa spoke after Quatre had turned back to face him again, “Dorothy will be arriving here sometime this evening.”

“I know,” Quatre held Trowa tightly, “The three of us can go to dinner together. I’ve already made reservations.”

“Is there a special occasion?” Trowa asked, curious.

“Not exactly,” Quatre hedged, “Dorothy had an idea and she wanted the three of us together when we discuss it in detail.”

“Formal attire?” Trowa asked, impassive again.

“Yes,” Quatre nodded, “I have a couple of outfits for you to choose from hanging in my closet.”

“I’ll go take a look then,” Trowa kissed the top of Quatre’s head and stepped out of the shower.

“What about you?” Quatre asked, concerned.

“I’m good for now. I’ll have my turn later,” Trowa reasoned, “Besides, it’s time for your morning prayer. I have an errand I need to run but I’ll be back before dinner.”

“I love you,” Quatre told, eyes earnest.

“I love you, too,” Trowa replied, with a hint of a smile.

Trowa was right, it was nearly first light. Quatre went to the private rooms he used as his own personal mosque. He dressed in long, white, pressed tunic and trousers and put a white cap over his hair. He kept towels in the antechamber and a basin to wash his face, his hands, and finally his feet. Amelia Colony had been established on the same schedule as the Royal Mecca Clock Tower in Saudi Arabia. The large holoscreen showed the inside of the Masjid al-Haram mosque in Mecca. Facing the screen meant he was facing Mecca, or as close to it as possible given the complicated nature of space colony positions. When any of his sisters were here they would join him, though he had a couple of sisters that didn’t practice the old ways.

“God is great,” he raised his hands to his ears, then placed his hands over the the lower left part of his chest, “God, glory and praise are for you. Blessed is your name. High is your majesty and none is worthy of worship but you. I seek shelter in God and reject evil in the name of God. The most merciful, the most kind, all praise belongs to God, lord of the universe. The most merciful, the most kind, master of the day of judgement, you alone we worship, to you alone we pray for help. Guide us along the right path, the path of those whom you favoured, not of those who deserve your anger or went astray. Amen.”

“By the glorious morning light,” he prayed, “and by the night when it is still, your guardian and lord hast not forsaken you, nor is He displeased.”

“God is great,” he bowed down, his hands on his knees, “Holy is my Lord, the Most Great.”

“God listens to those who praise him,” Quatre rose to stand, “our lord, all praises be to you.”

“God is great,” he went down again, this time with forehead, nose, palms, knees, toes, but not his arms, touching the white tile floor in a position called Sujud, “Glory be to God, the most high.”

“My Lord forgive me,” Quatre sat upright and placed his hands on his knees, “have mercy upon me, guide me, give me health and grant me sustenance and exalt me and set right my affairs.”

“God is great,” he put his forehead, nose, palms, knees, toes to the white tile floor, “Glory be to God, the most high.”

“God is great,” he stood and raised his hands to his ears again.

“God, glory and praise are for you. Blessed is your name,” Quatre placed his hands over the the lower left part of his chest, “High is your majesty and none is worthy of worship but you. I seek shelter in God and reject evil in the name of God. The most merciful, the most kind, all praise belongs to God, lord of the universe. The most merciful, the most kind, master of the day of judgement, you alone we worship, to you alone we pray for help. Guide us along the right path, the path of those whom you favoured, Not of those who deserve your anger or went astray. Amen.”

“Nor can a soul die except by God's leave, the term being fixed as by writing,” he prayed from the Qu’ran, “If any do desire a reward in this life, We shall give it to him; and if any do desire a reward in the afterlife, We shall give it to him. And swiftly shall We reward those that serve us with gratitude.”

“God is great,” he bowed down, his hands on his knees, “Holy is my Lord, the most great.”

“God listens to those who praise him,” Quatre rose to stand, “our lord, all praises be to you.”

“God is great,” he went down to the white tile floor again, “Glory be to God, the most high.”

“My Lord forgive me,” Quatre sat upright and placed his hands on his knees, “have mercy upon me, guide me, give me health and grant me sustenance and exalt me and set right my affairs.”

“God is great,” he put his forehead, nose, palms, knees, toes to the white tile floor, “Glory be to God, the most high.”

He sat upright and spoke quietly, “All verbal and physical acts of worship and financial sacrifices are due to God. Peace be upon you, Prophet, and the mercy of God and his blessings. Peace be on us and on the righteous servants of God. I bear witness that there is none worthy of worship but God and I bear witness that the prophet Muhammad is his servant and his messenger. God, let your blessing come upon Muhammad, and the family of Muhammad as you blessed Ibrahim and his family, truly you are the praiseworthy and glorious.”

“Our Lord, bestow on us good in this world and good in the hereafter and shield us from the torment of sin,” he resumed sujud and prayed for himself and his loved ones, “God, I have been very unjust to myself and no one grants pardon against sins but You, therefore forgive me with Your forgiveness and have mercy on me. Surely, You are the forgiver, the merciful. Lord, make me and my family steadfast in prayer; our Lord, accept the prayer. Our Lord, forgive me and my loved ones and the believers on the Day of Judgement.”

“God help me to remember You, thank You, and worship You properly,” he prayed as he sat up straight.

He turned to face his right, “Peace and the mercy of God be upon you.”

He turned to the left, “Peace and the mercy of God be upon you.”

While Quatre prayed, for roughly fifteen minutes from first light until the end of sunrise, Trowa went to Quatre’s suite to choose an outfit. The first suit Trowa pulled out in his size was a dark gray jacket and pants with a dark, royal purple dress shirt. His second choice was a navy pinstripe suit with a snow white dress shirt. After that he pulled out a pale gray, nearly white suit with a emerald green silk dress shirt. He set out the pale grey suit and put the other two back. 

Trowa unzipped his duffel bag and pulled out clothes for the day. He needed to make a vid call to his sister Catherine because she preferred that he check in when possible. Then he needed to pay a visit to an old friend. The name Midii Une had come up during his last stint working for the Preventers and he needed to talk to her. As luck would have it, her last known address had been a colony in the L4 Colony Cluster.


	2. Dorothy Arrives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothy returns for a long break while the ESUN is out of session.

Quatre was in Winner Corp board meetings for most of the day. He made time for his midday prayer and after that he spent the afternoon in a long meeting drawing up contracts with his personal legal counsel, Dorothy and her personal attorney. 

“All parties agree to hold personal property and separate assets in a living trust,” Dorothy’s counsel highlighted the highlights of the trust, “All parties agree to share income and property acquired during the length of the contract. All parties agree that each party will be provided for in all estate plans or with life insurance coverage for the length of the contract.”

“We would all be protected that way,” Quatre murmured.

“When a member of our trust dies, the trust goes on with the other two. The property does not hit probate. Probate is pain,” Dorothy’s voice was in his ear. She was in transit, heading toward Amelia Colony. Communication was clear enough for her to join the meeting remotely. 

“Are the contracts and accounts for the communal income and property ready to be reviewed?” Quatre directed his question to the lawyers. 

“Yes, everything is prepared for your review with Miss Catalonia and Mr. Barton,” Mr. Calidades replied. He was Dorothy’s representation. 

“Do you know when you plan to review the documentation with Mr. Barton?” Mr. Calidades asked.

“We’re going to discuss it later tonight,” Dorothy purred, her blue cat-like eyes delighted. 

“Of course, Miss Dorothy,” Mr. Calidades cleared his throat and then continued, “All parties agree to share financial obligations and liability for communal financial costs.”

“Those communal costs include lodging, household supplies, including linens and food,” Dorothy confirmed.

“Also clothing, transportation, healthcare and medical costs, property taxes, and savings,” Mr. Calidades added, “A list of what costs will be communal is detailed in the contract.”

“We’ll want to review that list on our own,” Quatre contributed, “I’d like that highlighted for us. Regarding sharing financial burdens, I would like finances to be fair rather than equal. Can we apply a sliding scale, or a percentage division related to individual income?”

“Already done, sir,” Ms. Elmofty spoke softly, as was her habit. 

“All parties grant decision-making rights to all other parties of the contract,” Mr. Calidades continued, “This part of the contract will include the right to make medical decisions if one of the other parties is incapacitated. We’ve drawn up an additional medical power of attorney contract that is virtually a duplicate of this section of the contract. Medical power of attorney is shared between all parties.”

“Why do we need a duplicate, separate contract?” Dorothy interrupted sharply.

“The arrangement is unusual and may be considered controversial by less open-minded individuals,” Ms. Elmofty explained smoothly, “It may be unnecessary but Mr. Calidades and I agree that the extra paperwork is worth the extra insurance.”

“We wouldn’t want some backwater judge to overturn or nullify our contract,” Dorothy’s eyes were narrowed.

“In any case where only medical power of attorney is required for presentation, even if a judge overturns the medical power of attorney the first contract remains intact while we…” Mr. Calidades trailed off.

“While we take the matter to another jurisdiction or a higher court,” Ms. Elmofty supplied with a slight smile, “I doubt the issue will come up in the near future but it is an eventuality we decided to cover.”

Mr Calidades shuffled papers, nervously, “I would like to broach the subject of a section of the contract that has not yet been added or discussed.”

“What section would that be?” Quatre sounded puzzled.

“The section regarding any future children,” Ms. Elmofty answered serenely, “would effectively grant parental rights to all parties of the contract. Inheritance rights would be granted to any and all future children raised jointly. This section would also address sharing the financial burdens associated with any and all potential children.”

Quatre longed for Dorothy to be there with him. Actually, he desperately wished that the two of them could speak privately for moment but that wasn’t immediately possible.

“Just another thing to review on our own, when we speak privately with Trowa,” Dorothy tossed out, in that casual way of hers. He could almost hear how she tossed her dark gold hair over her shoulder when she spoke with that careless tone of voice.

“Is there anything else?” Quatre asked.

“In the event that any party or parties files for a dissolution of the contract, all parties agree to the equitable division of property and other assets,” Mr. Calidades sounded relieved, “Any dissolution or amendments of the contract will be mediated or arbitrated by a third party not impacted by the contract.”

He ended his workday in the late afternoon, going to the local mosque for prayer with the rest of his community. Dorothy would be arriving around the same time as his prayer. The local mosque was closer to the colony’s civilian shuttle docking station than home so that worked out in his favor. He changed into a white dress shirt and khakis before he went to pick her up. 

“Hello, my handsome Arabian prince,” Dorothy purred as she threw her arms around him. She was wearing a tunic style blouse the color of orange-cream and white trousers as she stepped out of the transport center. 

“Hello, Dorothy,” he hugged her, then pulled back to see her face. She looked healthy and well. 

“Now,” she took his arm, “Tell me all about how much you missed me while I was away.”

“I missed you terribly,” he told her, face solemn, “I had to hire a harem of women to take your place while you were gone, just to get through the week.”

She snorted, “Winner Corp certainly counts as a harem of women with all of your sisters helping you to run things.”

He smiled, pleased she understood.

“How long do you have before you need to return to Earth, Madam President?” he asked.

“The ESUN will begin its next session in sixty days,” Dorothy told him, “Isn’t it lovely we break for two months every year?”

“It does allow for a good vacation package,” Quatre allowed.

“What do you think of Mr. Calidades?” Dorothy asked, “He came highly recommended but I felt myself envying you the Ms. Elmofty. How much do you think it would cost to steal her away from you?”

“She can’t be bought,” Quatre told her, hoping she wouldn’t try.

“Anyone can be bought,” Dorothy dismissed the comment, “It’s only a matter of whether or not I can afford to buy her. It sounds like we’d get into a bidding war over her and it isn’t worth it.”

Yet, Quatre thought to himself, it isn’t worth it yet.

“Your Mr. Calidades seems competent, if not particularly…” Quatre hesitated.

“Open-minded?” Dorothy smirked, “I noticed. I’ll keep him on for the time being and eventually shuffle him into my company’s legal counsel. In the meantime, I’ll be looking for one like your Elmofty. Keep an eye out for me, will you?”

“Of course,” he murmured, “You might also ask Ms. Elmofty if she knows anyone.”

“I already have,” Dorothy purred, “Of course, when I spoke to her privately I hinted I might hire the real Ms. Elmofty away from you if I could.”

“Of course you did,” he shook his head, “You don’t have any objections to our new company hiring her as legal counsel?”

“If our Mr. Barton doesn’t object to the formation of our little company,” Dorothy shrugged, “I don’t see why not. Perhaps then I can borrow her from time to time.”

He nodded, “Unless we require separate counsel, and I doubt that will happen often, I see no reason not to hire her on retainer for Winbaronia, LLC.”

“Do you want children?” Dorothy asked, abruptly and point-blank. Quatre blinked owlishly, but he was used to Dorothy’s rapidfire interrogation techniques.

“Yes,” he told her, honestly, “I think I would be a good father. I know what I would have wanted from my father, what I didn’t get, so I think I can at least avoid his mistakes.”

“You’d be making your own mistakes,” she mused, “No one is a perfect parent. I was largely raised by English nannies, French au pairs, and different tutors. They were kind but I knew my parents were dead.”

"Let's talk to Trowa about it tonight," Quatre murmured.


	3. Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quatre, Trowa, and Dorothy go to dinner together.

“You should have seen Quatre when I got back,” Trowa told Dorothy over dinner.

“Oh?” she raised her eyebrows at him. 

“Trowa,” Quatre murmured, face red.

“He was wearing a very tiny swimsuit,” Trowa supplied, looking mischievious.

“I think I liked it better when you were solemn and quiet,” Quatre said, but he smiled to soften the complaint. 

“It’s the wine,” Dorothy nodded toward Trowa’s nearly empty glass, “Not that I mind. When we get home you two can show me exactly what that looked like.”

“And what we did while he was wearing it?” Trowa asked, amused.

“Especially that,” Dorothy murmured, putting a hand on Trowa’s wrist, “But there is something we wanted to talk about over dinner.”

“Maybe we should wait until after the wine has worn off,” Quatre demurred. 

“Then I'll go first. There’s something I wanted to talk to the two of you about,” Trowa said, “I went to see someone I knew when I was a child. Before I was Trowa Barton.”

“Are you alright?” Quatre asked, concerned.

“I’m better, actually,” Trowa told them quietly, “Her name came up during an assignment so I decided to track her down on my own time. I was going to try to convince her to go straight, even offer to help her. She laughed at me.”

“Some people can’t be helped,” Dorothy supplied, her voice both weary and venomous. 

Trowa smiled, “She’s working undercover for the Preventers. That’s why Lady Une didn’t have me pursue her on the job. Midii laughed at me because I was trying to convince her to join the Preventers.”

“It’s a small world,” Quatre told him.

“Wait,” Dorothy said, “Midii? Midii Une?”

“Yes,” Trowa looked surprised, “Do you know her?”

“I know of her,” Dorothy told him, impressed, “Relena introduced me to her once. Vice Foreign Minister Darlian employed Midii to gather information.”

“You mean she was a spy for Relena?” Quatre asked, confused.

“How do you think Relena found Trowa when he was missing?” Dorothy asked him, with raised eyebrows, "Midii was employed for the Cinq Kingdom during the war and for the ESUN after the war."

“Midii Une,” Quatre said, his voice heavy with emotion, “I should send her flowers.”

“Knowing you, those flowers will come with a hefty bonus,” Dorothy said, amused.

“Midii is doing well,” Trowa added, “We talked about the war. It helped. She told me that she’d been seeing a therapist. Midii recommended that I start seeing someone. She gave me a card for the doctor she’s seeing.”

“That’s wonderful, Trowa,” Dorothy told him, genuinely delighted.

“I actually think we should all three see a therapist together as well,” Quatre added, “Although, seeing someone separately couldn’t be bad for any of us.”

“Why all three of us together?” Trowa asked. Quatre and Dorothy glanced at each other.

“You two are usually better at hiding things and keeping secrets,” Trowa told them, idly playing with his wine glass. 

“We have something we want to ask you,” Dorothy said as Quatre fumbled in the pocket of his jacket. Quatre put a black velvet jewelry box onto the table between the three of them. Trowa’s green eyes were wide when he looked at the three rings in the long jewelry box. All three were simple bands of silver.

“Trowa Barton,” Quatre said, opening the box.

“Will you marry us?” Dorothy asked. 

“They aren’t gold,” Dorothy told him, “because Islam prohibits wearing gold.”

“Islam prohibits a lot of things,” Trowa raised his eyebrows at Quatre. 

“Muslims who object to homosexuality are usually referencing the story of Lot in the Qu’ran,” Quatre explained, “The story of Lot focuses on infidelity and the community’s rejection of Lot as a prophet, not homosexuality. Under Shari’ah, Islamic law, there is no punishment outlined by the prophet Muhammad for homosexuality. On top of that, ancient Islam has a rich history of homoerotic literature. Old sources, ancient homoerotic poetry and art, presented homosexuality between men as accepted by medieval Islamic society.”

“I’d like to see some of that, preferably while the two of you are naked. What about polyamorous relationships?” Dorothy asked, intrigued. 

“There’s a history of men having many wives in Islam,” Trowa said.

“Yes,” Quatre said, “However, a woman having more than one husband is prohibited.”

“It’s good that I’m not a Muslim woman,” Dorothy supplied. 

“I expected the two of you would marry each other,” Trowa said with a quiet acceptance that struck Quatre’s heart. 

“We thought about it,” Dorothy admitted, “But it didn’t seem right, without you. You’re as much a part of us as we are a part of each other.”

“Marriage between more than two people still isn’t legal,” Trowa said, the green of his eyes intense.

“We found a way around that,” Dorothy told him with a sly smile.

“It won’t technically be a marriage,” Quatre explained, “It’s a legal contract. We’re setting up a corporation, an LLC, if you say yes. The contract---”

“Contracts,” Dorothy corrected, “There’s a lot of paperwork involved.”

“The contracts,” Quatre continued, “involve social and financial responsibilities drawn up in black and white. It’s similar to a prenuptial agreement.”

“We’ve started the process,” Dorothy told Trowa, “We haven’t finished. The preliminary documents have been drafted but there are a lot of issues we need to discuss with you. Well, you and the lawyers. We recommend you hire a lawyer, or let us hire a lawyer for you to review the paperwork. We want the contract to be in the best interests of each of us.”

“What about your position as President of the ESUN?” Trowa asked, “Marrying Quatre would be excellent for your image but polyamorous relationships are still controversial.”

Dorothy shrugged, “I doubt I’ll be re-elected in any case. I’ve made one too many practical decisions that didn’t benefit the rarefied, genteel elite of Earth.”

“You are a woman of the people,” Trowa pointed out, “The elite thought they were helping Duke Dermail’s granddaughter to office. They didn’t realize you were Relena, but with teeth. You’re extremely popular among the majority of people.”

“The Relena with teeth,” Dorothy mused on what he’d said, “I think I like that.”

“You won’t be a woman of the people after this,” Trowa told her. Dorothy just looked at him. 

“You don’t care,” Trowa surmised.

“The greater good has taken enough of my life,” Dorothy told him, righteously indignant, “I’m taking my own back and I have the money and influence to tell anyone who doesn’t like it to go fuck themselves.”

“We’ll work on revising that statement for the press conference, if necessary,” Quatre was amused and he put his hand over her wrist where she wore a gold and diamond bracelet.

“The general point of it will be the same,” Dorothy told him.

“What else would you like to do?” Trowa asked.

“I’ve been considering taking over as CEO of Winner Corp,” Dorothy suggested blithely. 

“What?” Quatre looked nonplussed, “But I’m the CEO of my company.”

“If we have children, someone will need to stay home with them,” Dorothy told him. Silence dropped over the table at her words.

“That’s one of the things the lawyers suggested we discuss,” Quatre finally said, hesitantly breaking the silence.

“I don’t want to be a father,” Trowa said, panic climbing up his throat. He hadn’t felt this panicked during any of his battles during a war. 

“We can put it in the contract, in case you change your mind,” Quatre told him, “I would like to raise children with the two of you. I think you would be an excellent father.”

“It isn’t what I want,” Trowa told them stonily. 

“We understand,” Dorothy told him, “It can be difficult to see yourself as a parent when you’ve seen yourself as a soldier for so long.”

“I never saw myself as a soldier,” Trowa told her, “I saw myself as a weapon.”

“The war is over,” Quatre said, “We are learning to be people during a time of peace, rather than pawns during a time of war. You may change your mind someday about children or any manner of other things. The two of you are still the people I choose for the rest of my life, whatever the circumstances.”

“Someone’s gotten a head start on writing his vows,” Dorothy’s eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled.

“I choose the two of you,” Trowa replied, “If you want me to review and sign paperwork for a union between the three of us, I will. I want you to know, if the two of you choose to get a marriage license I would also support that decision.”

“In combination with the other contract,” Dorothy asked, to clarify.

“Either,” Trowa replied, “Legal documents are only paper.”

Quatre and Dorothy glanced at each other.

“He doesn’t understand,” Quatre spoke out loud what both blondes were thinking. 

“He will after he gets a look at the legal paperwork and everything it covers,” Dorothy reassured him.

“Sounds like fun,” Trowa added, deadpan.


	4. Pillow Talk

“That was tedious,” Trowa grumbled in a low voice. Quatre and Dorothy had paid a lawyer to represent Trowa during the meetings. They’d reviewed and suggested edits all of the legal documentation for most of the day yesterday, Monday. The next morning they’d reviewed all of the documentation again and had gone through the laborious process of signing and notarizing all of the paperwork. 

“I know,” Quatre and Dorothy said in unison. Dorothy was curled up around Quatre, playing big spoon to his little spoon on the large round bed the three of them shared. Trowa lay beside both of them with his eyes shut.

“It’s important to have legal protections, for each of us,” Quatre added.

“Most of the protections seemed to apply to me,” Trowa replied.

“Quatre worries about power imbalances in personal relationships,” Dorothy sounded amused, “We both wanted you to be protected but you know how he worries.”

“Does it both either of you that my finances are considerably less than even just your spending money?” Trowa asked, curious.

“No,” Quatre replied immediately, “Does it bother you?”

“No,” Trowa sounded relaxed, as if he might drift off soon, “I don’t need much of anything. The war taught me about real necessities.”

“We want more for you than just the necessities,” Dorothy told him, reaching over Quatre to lay her hand on his arm, “We like taking care of each other and we like being able to take care of you.”

“Hmm,” Trowa’s response was noncommittal, “The two of you did a lot of work on these contracts before you proposed to me. Should I have been upset that I wasn’t included in the early stages of planning?”

“Quatre and I have been discussing marriage for a few weeks,” Dorothy told him, “Whether or not you agree to be a party to the contracts when we proposed together, we had decided to make our own agreement that would allow for you to be added as a party to our union later.”

“Are you upset with us?” Trowa felt Quatre’s nervousness like a palpable entity.

“I’m not upset,” Trowa tried to reassure him, “I’m just curious. Who proposed to who first?”

“Dorothy proposed to me,” Quatre admitted, almost shyly.

“I did no such thing,” Dorothy shot back, “We merely discussed it.”

“Well, she scheduled a meeting and phrased everything as if it were a business merger,” Quatre continued blithely, “She hadn’t even looked at rings yet.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would want to wear a ring,” Dorothy growled, “I did my research. Some Muslims don’t believe wearing a ring is… Halal? Haraam? Quatre, what’s the word?”

“Halal is for food,” Quatre sounded amused but truthfully, he was touched that Dorothy had shown any interest in Islam, “Haraam means that a person believes in or has an attachment to something which is not supported in Islamic tradition. Wearing a wedding ring is a tradition that originated elsewhere, in ancient Egypt if I remember correctly. It’s considered by some traditionalists to be in bad form to imitate the habits or traditions of non-Muslims. Muslim men are not supposed to wear gold at all, though.”

“That’s why I got you a silver ring, but you don’t have to wear the ring if it’s a problem,” Dorothy murmured, kissing his hair gently.

“If I were very traditional I wouldn’t be marrying a man,” Quatre murmured, “Islam prohibits sexual acts outside of marriage and defines marriage as the contract where a man agrees to provide the woman with financial support and a woman agrees to provide the man with exclusive access to vaginal intercourse.”

“According to that definition, you annd Dorothy won’t ever be married," Trowa pointed out, "She doesn’t need or want your financial support or only have sex with one man.”

“I’m so glad I’m not religious,” Dorothy muttered, mostly to herself. Dorothy was a theistic agnostic. She believed in the abstract possibility of a divine higher power but she didn’t believe it was really possible to justify any belief in a god sufficiently for it to be considered a fact. He had asked her about her own beliefs when they’d first started dating. When he’d asked if she was Christian she’d snickered and asked if he could really see her worshipping some long dead carpenter. Dorothy did believe the man had existed, though. They’d gone on to have an interesting conversation about the last supper having been for the wedding of Mary Magdalene and Jesus Nazareth. The topic of Dorothy’s spiritual or religious beliefs hadn’t really come up again since then.

“My sect of Islam is considered radically progressive,” Quatre continued, “My imam is female and she performs marriages for same-sex and interfaith couples. Our mosque encourages men and women praying together. I told her about what I wanted, both of you, and she was encouraging. She worried more about Trowa than anything else.”

“Would she be willing to perform a ceremony for us?” Dorothy asked.

“I think she would,” Quatre sounded vulnerable, so Trowa turned and threw an arm over both of his lovers.

“Are we going to have a ceremony?” Trowa asked, curious. He directed the question mostly at Dorothy. He had a feeling it was something Quatre wanted and he was hoping they could give that to Quatre.

“I love any excuse to buy a new outfit,” Dorothy told them, “Do Muslims practice the bride price tradition, like a dowry?”

“There is Mahr, which the husband offers the bride before or at the time of Nikah,” Quatre explained, “Nikah is a ceremony where the bride and groom become husband and wife. The Quran says to give the woman a free gift, Mahr, and if the woman chooses she may share a portion of it with the man. Then there is Valima, the dinner, like a reception.”

“In that case, the rings are Mahr, since you paid for them,” Dorothy told him, “And I choose to share one of the rings with you.”

Quatre smiled, “I could look at it that way.”

“Are there any required parts of the ceremony?” Trowa asked.

“The bride would recite: I have given away myself in Nikah to you, on the agreed Mahr,” Quatre told him, “The groom would reply: I have accepted the Nikah.”

“Is that all?” Dorothy asked, “I could do that.”

“There are times and days when marriage ceremonies are not recommended to be held,” he added, thoughtfully, “I looked it up recently. Traditionally, the ceremony would be performed at night. Marriage is discouraged when the moon is in Scorpio, during the last two or three days of the lunar months, and on Wednesdays. There are days or mourning, like the anniversary of the Karbalan massacre or the anniversary of the Prophet’s death, where it would be bad form the hold a wedding ceremony.”

“If you handle scheduling a ceremony,” Dorothy told him, “I would be happy to marry you in your mosque.”

Quatre only nodded because his chest and throat were suddenly tight. He hadn’t expected that she would be interested or willing to participate in any of his beliefs. He knew she didn’t share his faith but he hadn’t know to what extent she respected his religion.

“Is there any way I can participate? Would you want me to be a part of the ceremony?” Trowa asked, his voice carefully blank.

“I would love to marry both of you,” Quatre told them finally, “I can make the arrangements with my imam. I believe she would be willing to officiate. We can write up our own ceremony, something individualized to the three of us.”

“Is there anything I shouldn’t wear?” Dorothy asked, already mentally shopping for her dress.

“Ah, if you wouldn’t mind wearing you hair up, under some sort of covering, I would appreciate it” Quatre said quietly, “But it is entirely up to you.”

“Perhaps something antique or period inspired,” Dorothy murmured, stroking Quatre’s side absently, “Black wedding dresses were once traditional in Spain. I could wear black lace to cover my hair.”

Trowa lifted himself up enough to kiss Dorothy over Quatre. She kissed him back enthusiastically. Quatre watched the two of them, fascinated.

“Was it the mention of black lace?” Quatre asked.

“He just doesn’t want me to start going on about clothes,” Dorothy’s voice was almost laughing. 

“I’ve done enough planning and organizing today,” Trowa conceded, “I need a break. Preferably the kind that involves being naked between the two of you.”


End file.
